Lost in Time
by phantomoftheschoolforgood
Summary: I found a book under the floorboards. A diary. Worn and old, its words are fading and will soon be gone. Is it real? I do not know. But I do know it will interest you greatly. Rated T for the author's mouth.


_December 15th, 1901_

_Dear Diary,_

_Everything needs a name. I have one and so do frogs and trees and the squishy fruit I pick in the summer just before it all falls off the trees. You need one too, because names help give you a place in life and even diaries should have one, no matter how pointless you seem to be. Where will our words go? Our grown selves, bored and wanting to feel like little children again? Our little kids, stealing them from the dark crevices in which they have been lost and forgotten? Mom says babies pop out of soda bottles, but she is probably fibbing. Well, even though you are from a bookstore and are made of mutilated, dead trees (I like dark stuff. I stole a book from daddy's bookshelf by somebody named Poe and I liked it a lot), you need something less boring to be called then diary. Therefore, I deem you... Fae! 'Cause the fae aren't silly little fairies that sing ditties and have gossamer wings. They can hypnotize with their voices like in momma's stories and look like trees and twigs and cobwebs and can steal your babies and then return them for a price. Okay, maybe the last one isn't such an endearing trait but my big sister says they are the ones that always steal my books and momma's socks, so who knows?_

_Anyway, I got you for my birthday and I'm not sure what to put in you. Momma says a diary can be a good friend in a hard time, but I don't get why she's saying that. 'Wait 13 years', she says in that insufferable (Hah! See, I can use big words like my sister!) tone of voice that she uses whenever she is 'predicting' something. Sometimes, I don't understand momma. Daddy is easier to get, even though he's kinda rude and makes momma slap him upside the head. And I know he'll get into this eventually, but when he does, please don't kill me for what I say! He's scary like that. He knows all of the dark hidey-holes in this house, so should I make my own? Hmmmm..._

_I guess the first thing I should put in here should be about me. A bit self-centered, you say? Maybe. But momma's cryptic words and daddy's frank teachings don't leave too much to talk 'bout. Big sis is obnoxious and the cat is... the cat. Sometimes we have momma's friends over, which is fun. A dark skinned man who daddy calls 'Daroga' always makes me laugh when he infuriates daddy (In case you haven't noticed, my Grandma gave me a pocket dictionary. Big whoop.)._

_My name is Eliza Mulheim. That's_

_E for Energetic_

_L for Lots of dirt on me_

_I for Impossible to stop reading_

_Z for Zees has no weerd foor eet_

_And A for Abandoning hope of ever leaving this crazy town_

_I just turned 10 and live in a big house by a lake with my family. We don't go out to where other people are much, and I am homeschooled. I have black hair like daddy and purple eyes like momma. Some say it's pretty but I say it's weird. I am tall enough that I can lay from a bathtub end to end and not fit, and short enough to not be able to reach the cookie jar. Momma says I also would be screwed over at the movie theatre, but I don't get what she means. I don't know my weight, but daddy still won't carry me. My favorite books are the ones momma gives me and my favorite food is anything chocolate. Some people don't like me, I don't like some people. We all deal with it. I am better at writing then daddy but worse than momma. I love to ice skate on the lake, but only like to swim when I'm bored. Momma isn't the biggest water fan either, but she won't say why. Maybe she thinks she'll get cramps or leeches will eat her._

_Right now, it's winter. Crystallized snowflakes fly like feathers in the unforgiving wind. Trees, long stripped of the leaves we let lie around until they dissolve into dust, are now adorned with icicle crowns, every shape and size imaginable. The twirling wind is a mixture of howls of despair and crows of delight. The lake, frozen to the bone, is no longer home to quacking ducks who have fled south against the deep gray clouds. It makes some cry in glee and reach for a sled, it gives others an excuse to hold their loved ones tight and drink hot chocolate by the barrelful. It is the harshest season, yet the most beautiful. It is the time I was born in, and I hope it will be the time in which I die. Enough morbidity and exposition. Now I need to get back on track._

_Yet another reason I must write in this insufferable thing is of the diary I found beneath the floorboards. It was put there a long time ago. When I showed it to daddy he said it belonged to a very good friend of his. When I asked him about why it was there, he told me to clean out the cat's litter box. I won't be asking him again. But seeing as it was fraying at the seams, I decided to take it out and write down its contents. What was inside sounds more fictional then reality, but I will attempt to write it down in what I call a 'story format'. Now Fae, is going to be one of my few times talking to you, for the writing will most likely fill up this book. Now, just a warning for posterity:_

_This story contains language that makes grandma screech, momma laugh, daddy laugh at grandma's screeching, and Lucy (Another random person that comes every while) do nothing since she was the one saying it in the first place. If it is a piece of crap, it will be known as that for all of posterity and I will not care one bit. If it is fake and the diary a fraud, I think I already knew that. So long, Sayonara, and thanks for all the fish. _

_This is the end of the section. Please do not throw any toast. Rocky Horror doesn't exist yet._

**So here's my first chapter! The last bit is basically a disclaimer for the story, because I still am convinced that many people will not like it. I've had an idea like this in my head for a while, and wanted to share it. Also, be warned; I will not likely repost soon, because I have to memorize a sonnet and finish several projects. It's November people. Also, read and review! God knows reviews are needed for all fanfiction writers. Bye!**


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